


Only I thought I could See

by PitchGold



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Sex, not the lightest story I’ve ever written lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 12:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitchGold/pseuds/PitchGold
Summary: Lance thought he kept his secrets well. He hid the marks, he played his part, he never said a word."I remember," Shiro said. "All of it. I remember all of it."----A Shance Season 6 story.





	Only I thought I could See

His hand was so—it moved so slow up Lance’s back.  
  
He didn’t open his eyes. He knew if he did it would all end. Shiro would ignore him in the morning and he’d be forced to sleep alone in a cold bed.  
  
The mattress creaked as Shiro sat at the edge of the bed. Lance faced the wall, and tried to still his breath. Shiro had spent so many nights with him like this, so he knew the rules.  
  
Don’t acknowledge him. Let him do what he wants. He’d take and Lance was there to give.

  
Above all else, Lance was never to utter a word. Not during. Not after. Not ever.  
  
It was the hardest part about it all, but Lance just bit his lip as he let his eyes flutter closed and that slow, big Galra hand worked it’s way over his shoulder, gently pushing him onto his stomach as Shiro climbed over him.  
  
The sound of his clothes rustling had Lance nearly shivering, and he slid out of his own tank top.  
  
He should have known then.  
  
It was so obvious.  
  
He should have known the thing that pressed him into the mattress then, weight settling over Lance in a mind numbingly blissful way, was never Shiro.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The coalition had loaned them a ship, much to everyone's relief. As fascinating as traveling to earth was in the lions, it was a trip they all knew would take longer than a couple of hours.  
  
In fact, it was more like a couple of weeks.  
  
Turns out theory was right, Earth was way out in the fuckin no-mans land of the galaxy. Who’d of thunk it?  
  
The loaner ship was small enough there was no hope of not running into each other, and most rooms housed a couple or more people at a time—so when Lance stepped out into the living space to only see...  
  
His crisp white hair always caught Lance’s breath.  
  
But as was happening too often, Lance’s eyes couldn’t help but run over—all of it, the white long sleep shirt that led down to the same big hands, sweat pants that hugged his thighs a bit too tight and as always a cocked smile.  
  
Startled, Shiro stood from his spot on the couch.  
  
"S-sorry," Lance said as he already turned.  
  
His nerves couldn’t take this. Already a knot in his throat seemed to be inching up. He just—he could do anything, and god he just—Lance turned his head away. "I’m—I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I’m sorry."  
  
"Lance,"  
  
His voice was so deep still.  
  
Lance could remember how Shiro groaned over him. As he’d come it was always—it was nearly a growl at Lance’s ear and he’d clutch Lance too tight to him. If it was just a convenient fuck Lance wasn’t sure just from that, to the hiss of his name and the possessive way Shiro—no, the clone, had held him, had pulled Lance in and whispered how much he never wanted to leave.  
  
It was never above a whisper. His voice was never above a whisper when he spoke to Lance like that— almost like...  
  
Lance had to close his eyes.  
  
It was almost like he was afraid he was being listened to.  
  
"Hey Lance."  
  
Shiro’s voice was soft as he approached, but it still echoed in the room.  
  
Lances head raised.  
  
Would Shiro hit him if he knew? Would he call him disgusting? Would he tell Lance he never wanted to hear him speak again if he knew what Lance had really used his mouth for with that clone?  
  
"I’ll find somewhere else to chill," Lance commented. "No worries, you and Keith can have the living room!” He tried to inject a bit of his own loud nature into the statement.  
  
Shiro’s gaze—Lance couldn’t read it.  
  
"It’s just me here." Shiro said.  
  
Lance let out a breath, he wasn’t sure when he had started holding. "Oh."  
  
"I just—I spent a lot of time alone—ya know, dead." Shiro commented with a mirthless chuckle.  
  
Not sure how to respond to that, Lance gave a slow nod. "Is that what death is? Being alone?"  
  
Shiro looked at him then, his narrow eyes focusing on Lance in the oddest way. "I hope not." He finally said. "It’s miserable. Screaming into a void where no one can hear you."  
  
Lance felt his shoulders slump faster than his brain really caught on. Right. He—Lance hadn’t heard him either.  
  
"I’m sorry," Lance whispered.  
  
Was it because he didn’t want to believe it? Was it because the clone placed his hand over Lance’s eyes and slammed into him at that point nearly every night?  
  
Was it because Lance didn’t want the real Shiro back?  
  
"I am so sorry," Lance kept his promise. He didn’t start crying again as he said the words.  
  
"No--no, Lance," Shiro’s rushed a few steps closer. "No, I never meant that! Please don’t. it couldn’t have been helped, it was a split second."  
  
That’s when it happened. Shiro’s large hand settled at Lance’s neck, doubtlessly he was pulling him into another hug—but all—Lance just remembered the way that hand would pull him to tangle up in the sheets.  
  
"I should go," Lance was already turning.  
  
He couldn’t handle this. This was all too much. Everything was all too much. He’d loved—he’d fucked the villain. And now he felt horrible and if it was out of loss or guilt he wasn’t ever sure and it was all eating him alive.  
  
Lance’s hand raised to his face as he turned to the door. "I should leave you alone."  
  
"Lance," It only took one long step and Shiro was grasping at Lance’s wrist.  
  
Tilting his head back, Lance prayed to any deity listening he didn’t look an ounce of what he felt at that moment.  
  
"We—we should talk." Shiro’s voice was soft again.  
  
Lance shook his head. "I’m so sorry," he repeated. "I didn’t know—I heard you, I’d just, I didn’t kn-"  
  
"Not about that," Shiro’s gaze was focused just on Lance.  
  
Lances breathed out slow. Wh—what more could Shiro want from him?  
  
It was quiet for a long second more.  
  
Lance licked his lips. "I’ll go—" he tried again.  
  
"I remember," Shiro rushed out, cutting him off.  
  
Frozen, Lance wasn’t sure if he was breathing again.  
  
"All of it," it was a whisper this time. And a whisper Lance knew so well. "Everything he did. I remember it."  
  
There was no chance that time. Lance could feel as tears settled over him like a cold rush through his veins and he jerked back away.  
  
"Lance!" Shiro stepped forward again.  
  
He wished he would stop saying his name like that.  
  
Lance pivoted and tore the doors to the room open. "I need to go," he barely managed.  
  
"Let me talk to you." Shiro was behind him.  
  
"I have nothing I can say," Lance was nearly in tears again as he fled the room.  
  
It was true though. It was so entirely true. Lance didn’t have a thing more that he could say.  
  
Lance had loved him. He’d betrayed every single one of them. And Lance had given him everything.

 

* * *

 

 

The room had stilled. In the ever present night around them, the castle was in the middle of slumber.  
  
Lance’s sweat dried across his skin as he lay facing the wall. The only tell he wasn’t alone was the heart beat behind him. Shiro’s chest had heaved with every thrust into him and now he rest against Lance. He let out a long breath against Lance’s shoulder. His black hair would brush Lance’s skin softly every time he shifted.  
  
He wanted to look back, but Lance knew that would break the spell. Shiro would immediately get up and Lance would be left alone.  
  
“...I...” Shiro’s voice trailed off.  
  
He spoke so quiet.  
  
“...I don’t feel like me...” it was a desperate whisper. His breath seemed to rush out of him and his mouth seemed to tremble against Lance’s skin.  
  
What could he do? Lance licked his lips and lay so still.  
  
"I keep having—I don’t know if I’m really present sometimes."  
  
Lance could hear the confusion in Shiro’s voice.  
  
"It like—" his voice trailed and his breath shuttered. "I’m not really me. I’m not really here—it’s like I’m looking through a lens."  
  
The cold metal arm that wound around Lance, slipped around his front and pulled him in closer. Lance gasped at the chilly fingers against his skin.  
  
"I’ll—" Shiro shuddered another breath. “I’ll get it together," he chuckled. "Just lemme—I feel like I’m here when I’m with you."  
  
Lance tipped his head just a bit. He was still unsure, he was still on the fence—but he still wiggled an arm out of the covers and found his lover’s hand. Even as cold as it was, Lance clutched at the metal.  
  
The squeeze of Shiro’s fingers around Lance’s hand was answer enough.  
  
He was helping. Lance set his jaw. He was at least helping. Lance would do anything Shiro asked if that's what it meant.

 

* * *

 

    
It was always night in space. Always. Cold, cold night as they hurled through what Lance used to think was the heavens.  
  
He heard the door open behind him, but Lance didn’t react.  
  
The deep scent of cloves and cardamom filled his senses, but Lance didn’t look away from the expanse of space. The haul of this ship was cramped and tight at the peak of the ship. But at the other end, down below, most rooms held windows to great expanses of stars and galaxies.  
  
"Hey," his deep voice rumbled.  
  
Lance tipped his head up. "Hey," he parroted back. He blinked ocean-blue eyes in a way he hoped looked unassuming.  
  
Shiro still stood nearly ten feet from him.  
  
"I didn’t mean for earlier to go like that." Shiro sighed.  
  
Lance glanced over Shiro’s own open pose. His hands were open at his sides, his shoulders held relaxed.  
  
"It's alright." Lance cleared his throat. "I shouldn’t have just left."  
  
Shiro’s mouth pressed into a line. "I’m sorry."  
  
Lance tipped his head. "For what?" It seemed like such a blanket sorry, he wasn’t sure how to take it.  
  
That broke Shiro into a laugh as he looked out to the stars as well, stepping up closer to Lance.  "I don’t know." He sighed. "Maybe all of it."  
  
Lance gave his own huffed-out half laugh. "That’s a lot to apologize for." He looked down over his own crossed arms. "I don’t think you’ve done all that much wrong."  
  
When Lance looked up, Shiro was looking at him. It was a soft look, relaxed eyes and a small almost slight smile.  
  
"You’ve changed a lot,"  
  
Lance tipped his head with the raise of a brow. "Oh?" A sly, characteristic smile slipped onto his lips. "I’d say you’re the one that’s changed quite a lot." Lance nodded to the white hair.  
  
Shiro was all smiles and laughs as his eyes rolled up to look at the newest change. "I’m not sure it's an improvement,"  
  
Snickering, Lance uncrossed his arms as he stepped closer to peer around Shiro. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. It matches your personality!"  
  
That had Shiro bursting into a laugh. "I’m not all that much older than you."  
  
"Don’t lie, you’ve basically got the personality of an eighty year old." Lance still snickered. "You once told me not to say dammit—though I’ve heard you say it often enough."  
  
Shiro’s chuckle then caught Lance off guard. Close to him, it rumbled through his veins as Shiro’s hand ever so gently rest at the small of Lance’s back.  
  
"You’re fond of this old man all the same."  
  
Lance blushed first. His eyes dropping as he tried to think his way through the situation.  
  
Without any sign of Lance disliking the action, Shiro took another inching step closer. His exhale against Lance’s neck was slow, like he was maybe just as wary as Lance was at that moment.  
  
"I don’t know what you mean," Lance swallowed.  
  
"I don’t think we should lie to each other," Shiro’s stern voice was just as close.  
  
And Lance looked away.  
  
He shook his head. "I don’t know what you think went on—"  
  
"I know what all happened," Shiro cut him off. "I can see it, I can feel it—I can feel you."  
  
His hand just at Lance’s spine twinged then, pulling in against the fabric of Lance’s shirt.  
  
"You’re very—you were incredibly docile." Shiro seemed out of breath as he gave a laugh. "I never expected that."  
  
Lance could only look up at Shiro for a long moment before his gaze fell again.  
  
He didn’t have anything to say.  
  
Should he deny again?  
  
But what was the point? Shiro knew he would be lying.  
  
"It wasn’t—" Lance nearly cracked. "It wasn’t how you think." He shook his head as his eyes closed. "I’m so sorry, Shiro. I didn’t know—I thought—he was hurting so much."  
  
"He was," Shiro’s voice was still so close.  
  
Lance’s eyes opened as his hands desperately shook as they fell away from him in a desperate gesture.  
  
"I didn’t know."  
  
"Neither did I," Shiro hummed.  
  
Lance sniffed as he realized he was crying.  
  
"I wouldn’t have let him do any of that—"  
  
"But you did." Shiro cut in.  
  
Lance stopped, his breath hitched in his throat. What did he say to that? He didn’t know how to beg for Shiro’s forgiveness any more than he had.  
  
The hand at Lance's back moved then, sliding up his spine ever so carefully.  
  
Lance felt frozen. His body seemed to lock and his limbs stiffened.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lance was only half asleep as he lay across the couch. It was that in-between sleep, he knew someone else had entered the room, but his body refused to give up on sleep just yet, refused to let another human interrupt him.  
  
The sound of those heavy military boots already had Lance on alert, though. He knew who it was. He knew that step, that slow, long stride.  
  
His eyes didn’t open as he felt the couch shift as Shiro heavily sat down.  
  
And for a few spare seconds, nothing happened. Lance even felt himself drifting again, huddled curled on his side, facing the back cushions, arms tucked around him and his legs curled.  
  
That's when he felt it, feather light—softer than he ever imagined, Shiro was so gentle as his hand skirted over Lance’s thigh.  
  
It was the first time. Lance’s eyes flew open but he didn’t move.  
  
Shiro didn’t say anything, and neither did Lance. His hand pet from Lance’s hip all the way down to just past his knee. His touch was still light and so careful.  
  
Lance’s eyelashes brushed the couch cushions as he blinked into it.  
  
Shiro had to know Lance was awake.  
  
He said he didn’t feel like himself, Lance repeated in his head.  
  
He didn’t feel like—himself.  
  
Shiro’s hand slid once more, long and slow as he pet down Lance’s thigh, his glove caught on Lance’s jeans even, for just a second, just a moment and then kept going.  
  
...and then he must have remembered himself. He must have felt like himself again, because Shiro stood up and with a whoosh of the door and quick steps of heavy military boots, he was gone.  
  
Lance laid there even after—he was completely awake then. No hope of sleep falling back over him then.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was the very same. Feather light, with the softest of fingers. as the real Shiro, the man who was Lance’s Hero, slowly slid his fingers up Lance’s spine.  
  
It had Lance immediately on edge.  
  
But then Shiro did something his clone hadn’t ever done— his hand grasped at Lance’s neck, firm and solid, no chance for Lance to mistaken him for a ghost as he leaned in over Lance.  
  
"Lance—" his voice had softened.  
  
Lance couldn’t move.  
  
"I’m gonna—let me try something?" His voice had such a gravely effect to it—was Shiro affected to? Was Shiro having trouble processing every second that passed as well.  
  
The moment seemed frozen, and Lance knew—his inaction, was probably the worst thing he could do. He wasn’t saying no, he wasn’t saying yes...  
  
The shift of Shiro’s cloths was the first hint, and his hand, his hand brushed through the hair at the back of Lance’s neck. It was a soothing action, nearly playful as he leaned in.  
  
The kiss was very soft to the side of Lance’s lips. It lingered with a pause, before the crisp sound of a kiss echoed in Lances ear. He could feel as Shiro blinked his eyes open, his lashes brushing over Lance’s cheek.  
  
It sent a shiver through him.  
  
The clone—he hadn’t liked to be that close to Lance it seemed.  
  
"I should go," Lance sputtered.  
  
"I’m sorry," Shiro immediately back peddled, his hand dropping and taking a step away.  
  
Lance was already turning though. "I need to go,"  
  
"You don’t have to,"  
  
"I can’t stay here," Lance wheezed as he nearly ran then, his feet hastily taking him away and his arms constricted around him.

 

* * *

 

 

"I have to go."  
  
He wasn’t speaking to Lance.

Lance could always tell. If he was speaking to Lance it was usually smoother, his voice close to Lance’s skin. It wasn’t as gruff and gravelly like when he spoke to himself.  
  
Shiro didn’t move though. His mouth even turned, his teeth scraping over Lance’s shoulder.  
  
Lances mouth opened. And a breath passed.  
  
"You—" his voice caught. He knew what he wanted to stay. _You could stay._  
  
He felt the tickle of Shiro lifting his head, that white forelock brushing over the flat of Lance’s shoulder.  
  
Lance swallowed. He wanted to say something so bad. But if he did—would that just make him leave sooner? Lance couldn’t ruin that moment. He closed his eyes as he felt it—his heart shuddered another beat and he managed another shuddering breath.  
  
He opened his mouth and his head turned—  
  
And Shiro was already pulling away. The mattress shifted as Shiro pushed up, a hand combing through his short black hair as he stood.  
  
Lance looked over his shoulder as Shiro started to retrieve his clothes from the floor. He didn’t say anything as he pulled them on.  
  
He stopped at the door, but he never turned around.  
  
Lance watched that strong straight back. He was always tense anymore, even when he’d leave. Lance thought at first maybe he was helping, maybe by letting Shiro pound it out against Lance’s ass he was at least letting him ease it off. The first few times maybe he did...  
  
But Shiro seemed anymore to leave more frustrated than he would arrive, even then, as he stopped, as his face tilted and he nearly looked over his shoulder to Lance—but in the end didn’t.  
  
The door wooshed open, and Lance was left alone.  
  
The door closed on its own after a few empty seconds.  
  
Lance’s eyes lingered there, just a moment more—till he couldn’t take it any more and curled up back under his comforter. He was still nude. His skin was still sticky from what they’d done. He’d normally wash before crawling back to sulk in his empty bed, but that night he couldn’t even manage that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
The warm water had soothed him into too much of a lull, it wasn’t till that large, broad hand pressed into the wall over Lance that his eyes snapped open.  
  
"I didn’t mean to chase you off." Shiro’s voice was quiet again, that soft tone Lance had never quite known he had till now.  
  
Lance felt rooted in place, eyes snapping open. He looked straight ahead to the tilled wall. He felt like he didn’t know how to breathe at that moment. Shiro’s feet patted a step or so closer, the wet plops against the tiled floor echoing around them.  
  
What did he even say after their conversation earlier?  
  
For a long moment the only sound was the water splashing over them both.  
  
"Will you talk to me?" Shiro spoke again.  
  
Lance swallowed, and his eyes shifted down. Did he even have a right to look behind himself? Shiro was very much without clothing. Lance could tell even from the shift of his skin near him.  
  
"In the shower?" Lance huffed a laugh.  
  
Shiro was smiling as he spoke. Lance could hear it. "I needed to catch you alone."  
  
There wasn’t any words Lance could find at his tongue then, so he just said nothing.  
  
"I figured we’ve been like this enough now, you’d be comfortable with it."  
  
Lance looked up to the shower head. Something about right then—it felt more vulnerable than Shiro stripping Lance under the covers.  
  
"Are you comfortable with it?" Shiro turned in as he asked.  
  
He was looking at Lance, and Lance’s skin nearly prickled with it,  
  
“Yeah," there was a sigh in his voice even as he gave a chuckle. "It’s okay."  
  
Shiro’s hand on the wall slowly slid down and he rest it at Lance’s neck.  
  
Lance’s head finally raised and the touch seemed to knock him out of his spell because he pivoted, his back to the wall, and Shiro’s hand brushed off.  
  
He could do that this time. He could look at Shiro, look him dead in the eye and not just watch as he retreated.  
  
"Nothing happened." Lance raised his chin. The words—they felt like they choked him on the way out. The greatest moments of his life, and he now stood denying them all.  
  
Shiro’s dark eyes now were in such stark contrast with his hair, even as he narrowed his gaze on Lance. A smile Lance didn’t know the man was capable of slid into his features as he gave a shake of his head.  
  
"I understand, I'll lie to the others if you like—but you can't deny with me." Shiro’s voice was deeper, gravely this time as he spoke.  
  
Lance shook his own head with a casual shrug. "I don’t know what ya mean, dude."  
  
That smile only grew as Shiro stepped closer.  
  
His touch over Lance’s cheek bone was just as gentle, as soft as ever as his thumb dust over Lance’s cheek. Shiro took another step closer and Lance was forced his own step back. He sucked in a sharp breath as his back hit the cold tile and he was cornered.  
  
With only one arm, he still managed to keep Lance in his grasp as he leaned closer, his kiss to Lance’s neck just as gentle and kind.  
  
"That okay?" Shiro asked.  
  
Lance tried very hard to clear his throat. He barely managed the mess of words out. "I don’t know."  
  
Shiro hummed "You’ve let me do it before," his thumb ghosted over Lance’s cheek before he shifted to really look at him. "Are you uncomfortable with this?"  
  
Lance’s blue gaze shifted up.  
  
"I was kind of hoping I could give you a nice surprise," Shiro’s gaze narrowed. "He never seemed to wanna surprise you with anything but his own want."  
  
Lance swallowed again. Shiro really did remember.  
  
But his facts were wrong. They were all wrong.  
  
"He wasn’t—" Lance could feel it then, so terribly deep--like a wound throbbing as it snapped its stitches and fell open. Lance’s throat caught and he had to gulp down air. What could he even say to Shiro? Admitting the truth would only earn him disdain.  
  
"Please don’t." Lance landed on as he was forced to look away.  
  
Shiro tipped his head, a surprised expression settling. "Of course." His hand dropped away from Lance.  
  
He was acting so—so cordial about it all.  
  
"I just—" Shiro started. "It seemed easier on you to distance myself from what—was happening to you."  
  
"Nothing happened,” Lance reiterated.  
  
"Good boy, mouthing off his exact words still." Shiro’s growl this time was evident.  
  
Lance’s head snapped up.  
  
Was Shiro really—he was pissed. Lance could even see it from here. He was down right acting pissy.  
  
"He didn’t tell me to say that." Lance whispered.  
  
"He never told you anything," Shiro shook his head.  
  
"That's not true," Lance’s voice he knew was shaking. "I mean that one, it's not true at all."  
  
"He barely spoke to you," Shiro shook his head. "In all that time, in everything he did he never even spared you an explanation."  
  
"He didn’t need that from me," Lance shook his head. "We never needed explanations from each other."  
  
"He fucked you over," Shiro nearly sounded desperate as he shook his head.  
  
"It’s not like I ever protested," his voice broke then, shattered as his breath hitched and Lance gasped at the first wave.  
  
"Lance," Shiro’s arm snapped around Lance’s waist, gathering him in.  
  
There was little in him that actually wanted to protest then, so Lance just let it happen, his cheek resting over Shiro’s shoulder.  
  
He wasn’t ever coming back. And that fact crashed through Lance then.  
  
"You—you don’t know," Lance tried past his own hiccups.  
  
He felt Shiro shift, his hand at Lance’s back, laying across the small of Lance’s waist.  
  
When Shiro spoke it was into Lance’s hair. "I do though."  
  
"You weren’t there," Lance tried.  
  
The deep hum had Lance shivering.  
  
"I wish I had been." Shiro’s voice was soft again.  
  
Lance pushed up. "I’m sorry—" he tried. "I didn’t mean it like—"  
  
Shiro was already leaning in though to carefully press another kiss to Lance’s cheek.  
  
It was the gentleness. It never changed. His touch could be so feather light and at times so deep, it always had Lance worried the ground would give way under him.  
  
"Whatever you want," Shiro’s voice was quiet again. "Tell me where ever you wanna pick up and I can make it work."  
  
Lance felt statue still.  
  
Shiro’s hand pet down Lance’s back again. His bare skin tingled with the action.  
  
"I need to think." Lance knew he sounded small as he pulled away, side stepping to get out of Shiro’s grasp.  
  
"I’ll drop by later," There wasn’t a question anywhere in his voice.  
  
Lance gave a nod, before fleeing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He was desperate.  
  
Lance always got it so much worse when he was like that.  
  
A hand at his armor, Lance was pushed down over the control panel.  
  
Rough hands were at his waist. Shiro yanked and pulled at Lance’s uniform, nearly ripping the fabric as he tried to loosen the belt.  
  
"I got it," Lance kept his voice soft as he reached down, one hand on the console steadied himself  as he reached down and unfastened the belt.  
  
"Thanks," it was a growl into his ear as Shiro’s hands surged forward, pressing Lance to bend again, prying at the bottom half of his suit.  
  
Lance’s eyes ran over the cockpit of the Black Lion. He hadn’t expected this. Shiro was always knocking at Lance’s door late at night— he usually could, he could wait till they were alone, till the rest of the castle wouldn’t know.  
  
But not this time. Shiro had told Lance he needed him before Red had even landed back in the hanger.  
  
Lance had even thought it wasn’t over this. It had to be over something else—  
  
As Lance’s ass was finally stripped bare, the bottom half of his suit hanging at his knees, Lance could feel the change. Shiro’s grip on his skin was nearly sweaty, his hands roamed over bronze skin.  
  
Lance didn’t look back, leaning a bit more comfortably over the console.  
  
He heard the cap, before Lance sucked in a breath. Shiro had poured it right over his entrance.  
  
Strong hands gripped Lance’s hips, holding him steady as Shiro worked his own suit out of the way.  
  
It felt cold over Lance’s skin, and he tried to keep still. He could feel the thick roll of lube from over his ass, sliding down his balls.  
  
There wasn’t a word whispered even as Shiro pressed forward then. One thumb pressed first, opening him up before Lance gasped. The blunt head pressed in and as always the thickness had Lance barely hanging on.  
  
Slapping his hand over his mouth, Lance tried to stay quiet.  
  
Shiro gave a huff as his hands framed Lance’s hips. He liked to watch, Lance had realized. He liked to control how fast and far they went and he liked to watch it.  
  
He pulled Lance back onto him, hands over his hip bones. He inched Lance to impale himself back.  
  
And Lance couldn’t catch his breath. It was slow, but the invasion burned, even so soon after the night before— it wasn’t enough prep. Lance whined, his brow creasing and eyes squeezed shut.  
  
There was no answer above him, just the push if Shiro’s hips forward, bottoming out. His head tipped back and he gave a deep growl.  
  
Lance could barely hold himself still. He wanted to squirm and pull off. It was too much, but his head just fell forward to the console.  
  
Shiro stopped when Lance’s ass pressed up against his heaving abdomen, Lance tried to level his breathing, his forehead hitting the smooth glass of the control panel. In return, Shiro slid his hand over Lance’s sweaty skin, moving to splay his hand over Lance’s back and push up under the black shirt of his flight suit.  
  
Using that hand as leverage, Shiro slowly started to move.  
  
Lance lifted his head just a bit, staring forward—and it wasn’t long before Shiro’s hands were bruisingly hooked back at his hips and he was pounding his hips forward into Lance, shoving him up against the console with each thrust.  
  
Lance let his head drop back down—and didn’t say anything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He was nervous. He’d been nervous since dinner. He’d been nervous at dinner, especially as Shiro had sat down next to him--at dinner. Especially as half way through Lance had looked over when Shiro’s arm had brushed his and Shiro looked over as well and then a soft smile spread... Lance had swallowed and for a second was afraid Shiro was going to lean over to give him another kiss on the cheek.  
  
And then Shiro had looked away.  
  
Lance could finally breathe again and once he could slide out and escape he took the opportunity.  
  
Back in his room—what was happening?  
  
He sat down heavily on his bed as he tried to process.  
  
Lance held his hands out before him. He was shaking... what was wrong with him? It just—it felt like so much.  
  
Pushing out a single, long breath he tried to calm down, to reorder his brain.  
  
Okay.  
  
He was okay.  
  
Lance had fucked Shiro’s clone.  
  
Well, he’d let Shiro’s clone fuck him—a lot.  
  
And now that Shiro was back...  
  
He knew,  
  
And he was—  
  
He was okay with it?  
  
No. That was wrong. He was pissed about it. He talked about his clone like he was very pissed about it.  
  
But he was now kissing Lance.  
  
The old Shiro had never done that. Pre-death Shiro had barely looked at Lance. He’d spent most if his time looking at Keith. He still spent a lot of time with Keith. He’d told Keith he loved him. Lance had heard it. ...they all heard it.  
  
Was Shiro kissing Keith now too?  
  
Lance blinked—and blinked again.  
  
What was going on?  
  
His life felt like it was cracking into shambles at that point.  
  
Staring at the opposite wall, Lance blinked again.  
  
That’s when there was a knock on his door.  
  
It didn’t startle him.  
  
Lance knew who it was. Shiro had told him he would come by. He’d just hoped it would be later. ...much, much later.  
  
This hadn’t happened with the old Shiro. He’d just let himself in then. The first time anything really happened, Lance’s only warning had been when Shiro sat on the mattress next to him, middle of the night and when he’d moved forward over Lance, he didn’t saw anything. Neither of them had said a thing! It was always just unspoken, always just—happening. Lance was never asked about any of it—he just would like... roll with it? Not that he’d say no, it was just... it was never required of him to decide anything!  
  
And now all real Shiro wanted to do was talk!  
  
Talk... and kiss Lance’s face.  
  
Neither if those things had happened before.  
  
There was another more prompt knock against his door.  
  
Oh god. Lance’s head tipped up.  
  
What if he didn’t answer?  
  
"Lance," the soft voice could be heard from in the other side. "Come on, open the door."  
  
Fuck!  
  
Lance still didn’t move for a long moment.  
  
Then he sighed and got up. He should answer the door. He was an adult. Adults dealt with their problems.  
  
As he pressed for the door to open, Lance sucked in another breath.  
  
The Shiro that was revealed, looked down at Lance through the starlit, white hair as a lopsided small smile formed.  
  
"Can I come in?" His smile didn’t fade as he spoke.  
  
Lance looked back to his room. Half of his stuff was haphazardly still half in boxes from vacating the castle. His bed was a mess. His clothes were all over the floor. Perfect condition for company...  
  
He gave a quiet, slow nod to Shiro as he turned back.  
  
"Ya doing okay?" Shiro asked as he stepped forward, over the threshold and into the room.  
  
Lance side-stepped but Shiro still stepped closer to him.  
  
"I’m fine," Lance nodded.  
  
Shiro gave him a clear look that he didn’t believe him, but he didn’t press further.  
  
With one more look over Lance, Shiro stepped around him and into the room. For a moment Lance’s hand hesitated over the keypad, but he eventually pressed for the door to close before turning to look at Shiro.  
  
Shiro was looking at him again.  
  
Lance wasn’t sure what to do, so to hide his fidgety hands, he shoved them in his pocket and hoped he didn’t look as awkward as he felt.    
  
"Are you comfortable with me being here?" Shiro asked.  
  
Lance finally looked up. "You’re asking that a lot lately."  
  
"He didn’t." Shiro answered. "He never asked you anything about your limits."  
  
Lance gave shrug.  
  
"That matters, Lance," Shiro said as he stepped closer to him. "What you wanted out of it all mattered."  
  
"He was still you," Lance protested. "If you had done any of that I wouldn’t have minded either."  
  
He looked frustrated. "It wasn’t me, I would have never done that to you!"  
  
"I never told him no!" Lance defended, though his lips trembled, he felt like it was more of a confession. "I—I thought it was you."  
  
He wasn’t aware he was crying till he saw the expression on Shiro’s face.  
  
"It wasn’t," Shiro shook his head. He stepped forward again as his hand lifted and he carefully brushed Lance’s cheek with his thumb, clearing away the stray tears.  
  
"I’m sorry," Lance managed. "I didn’t know," he gasped. "I would have never—and now you’re stuck with all those memories and I just—" he heaved through another sob as his own hands lifted to his face, trying to push off any tears he could.  
  
"Hey," Shiro was even closer as he spoke again. "It’s okay. It’s all okay, you didn’t know."  
  
"But I thought I did," Lance gulped for air. "I thought I was helping. He just seemed so desperate and I knew something was wrong, it just was getting worse and he wouldn’t say anything to me, he just—"  
  
"He fucking used you," Shiro cut in, growling.  
  
Lance just sucked in another breath and tried not to heave out another sob.  
  
"I’m so sorry," Shiro’s fingers combed through Lance’s hair. "I wasn’t there to stop him and I’m so sorry."  
  
"When you came back, I never wanted you to know," Lance admitted. "I thought it was gonna be all over."  
  
Shiro shook his head. "It’s okay, I don’t hold any of it against you."  
  
"I’m just really sorry," Lance repeated.  
  
"I know," Shiro whispered to him.  
  
He was even closer this time, as he smoothed his hand over Lance’s cheek. He held Lance there as he leaned into to press first one kiss to the tip of Lance’s cheek bone, but then slowly he kissed again and again down.  
  
When he reached Lance’s mout, it was like a dam breaking. Shiro pressed in a devouring soft kiss, as he tipped Lance’s chin up and—  
  
"I don’t understand," Lance pulled away. "You weren’t like this before..."  
  
Shiro finally—his frown and the kneading of his brow wasn’t what Lance had intended.  
  
"I’m—" Shiro stopped, he seemed frustrated with the words. "You’re very cute." He said it like it was something that miffed him.  
  
Lance blinked. What was he supposed to do with that?  
  
Why was this so awkward?  
  
"And," Shiro sounded uncomfortable, even as he reached forward and brushed his fingers again against Lance’s hair. "He’s made it easy for me," Shiro’s mouth pressed into a hard line. "To just pick up where he left off."  
  
Lance was still—he blinked again, his mouth opening this time. Though no words fell out.  
  
"I-" Shiro still sounded uncomfortable. "I can try and fix it all."  
  
It finally all started to click and Lance tilted his head. Inadvertently, he tilted it into Shiro’s hand he realized, but moreover, his brow raised as the pieces all fell together.  
  
"You," Lance spoke slow. "Find it easier—to try and mend the dysfunctional relationship—that I had with your clone," Lance paused for the effect to fully sink in. "Than it would have been to hit on me?"  
  
The way Shiro’s face morphed was answer enough. Though watching his expression switch from concerned to frustrated to miffed and back to concerned was a trip.  
  
"That’s not..." Shiro trailed off.  
  
"You went to space," Lance nearly laughed. "You went to fuckin’ outer space," he actually did laugh. "And you found it hard to tell me I’m pretty."  
  
"It’s not that easy!" Shiro was smiling though even as he protested. Though his face quickly morphed back to controlled. "There is a serious age gap between us, I couldn’t have made that first step. I didn’t know if you were comfortable with it.  Besides we were a team, and I was trying to be your leader."  
  
"Right," Lance nodded.  
  
Oh god.  
  
Lance knew his eyes were wide but he wasn’t sure how to change them.  
  
"So now that Fake Shiro opened that can of worms and made it clear there's attraction—at least on some physical level present...you’re okay with exploring forward with this..." Lance trailed off and his eyes flicked up to look at Shiro.  
  
Shiro looked—he didn’t look comfortable. "I didn’t expect you to explain—what I was doing."  
  
"I didn’t expect it to happen," Lance admitted. He laughed. "I killed the moment, didn’t I?"  
  
Shiro tilted his head, though he laughed as well. "Well—yes."  
  
"Jokes are funnier when you explain them, right?" Lance half-heartedly tried, though his hand went to his face.  
  
"No," Shiro answered honestly with a bursting laugh. "They absolutely aren’t."  
  
Lance laughed as well as he turned away. With a heavy sigh though, he sat down on his bed. Staring at the floor he wasn’t sure where he had ever planned for this talk to go, but he was pretty certain he hadn’t thought of this outcome.  
  
The sound of Shiro’s boots scraping the floor was a comforting familiar sound, before Shiro sat down next to Lance.  
  
"Where do I go from here?" Lance asked. He didn’t look up from the floor.  
  
He could feel as Shiro’s gaze shifted though. "Are you scared?"  
  
Lance looked up. Did he—did he sound scared? He must have. He looked back away.  
  
"I’ve never done any of this before," Lance admitted.  
  
Shiro snorted.  
  
With a narrow gaze and a frown, Lance looked over.  
  
Shiro was looking at him again, and his eyes were just so—relaxed, so soft.  
  
"Are you comfortable with this?" Shiro’s hand raised and he carefully cupped Lance’s cheek, his fingers petting at the edges of Lance’s face.  
  
"I’ve already let you do it," Lance pulled on a small smile. "Why would that change now?"  
  
There was a pause, though Shiro opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"He wasn’t great to you."  
  
"He had his moments," Lance shrugged. "You’re very caught up on how he treated me."  
  
Shiro swallowed. "I—I know." He licked his lips, giving himself a moment to form the words. "I guess, I—I don’t wanna admit I could do that, I could be like that, especially towards you."  
  
"Because you think I’m pretty,” Lance ended for him.  
  
Shiro tipped his head with a worrisome expression. "Because I think you’re a worthwhile person."  
  
That stilled Lance, and he looked ahead.  
  
There was so much of this conversation that seemed to be stopping—because he wasn’t sure how to keep it going, what to say.  
  
And Shiro was sliding a strand of hair back behind Lance's ear.  
  
"I’ll leave if you want." Shiro said. "And I wont bring it all up again, if you really wanna leave it all behind."  
  
This time, Lance slid his gaze over. He blinked yet again, but this time slower before he asked, "can you kiss me?"  
  
Shiro tipped his head, a smile forming. "Kiss you?"  
  
Lance nodded. "Yeah," his voice cracked involuntarily, and it took a moment for him to swallow it down. He shook his head as he frowned. "He never—he never would."  
  
And Shiro was leaning forward already, grasping at Lance’s neck, he tipped his head and went straight in for a soft kiss over prone lips.  
  
It lasted a few seconds. Shiro didn’t intensify it, only pressed the kiss in before with the characteristic sound of a kiss he pulled away.  
  
Shiro smiled as he pulled away and his thumb pet against Lance’s skin.  
  
"It’s a shame," Shiro whispered as his brow lifted. "It’s very enjoyable to kiss you."  
  
He had him.  
  
Lance didn’t have a chance. His eyes finally shifted to look at Shiro full on for once, looking straight into those dark eyes and his own smile finally came.  
  
Shiro chuckled as he slid closer, "comere’," his voice was soft, yet a bit rumbly as he kissed again at Lance’s cheek. It was lighter, but in a way—more possessive.  
  
There was no hope for him at that point and Lance nodded slowly as he pushed in o crossing one of his legs over Shiro’s and curling into his side.  
  
"I missed you," Shiro chuckled as his only arm left went around Lance’s back.  
  
Lance paused before he nodded again. "Me too."

 

* * *

 

 

 

They stood on the bridge. Lance hung back, watching as Shiro looked up over the galaxies whirling past them. He’d been—distant from Lance.

 

Lance didn’t say anything.

 

Shiro’s salt and pepper hair shifted just a bit as finally he seemed to notice.

 

He turned.

 

And for just a second, for the smallest moment he looked at Lance. It so rarely happened. It so rarely was the case at all that Shiro ever let his eyes fall over Lance.

 

Lance tried, his mouth lifted in what he hoped was a soft smile.

 

But Shiro already looked away.

 

He didn’t say a thing as he passed Lance, leaving him to the dark endless space around, he just walked past him, and closed the door behind him.

 

Lance knew—a bit of him knew, and a bit of him crashed at that moment. His mouth settled into a frown and his hands hung limp at his sides.

 

Maybe he wasn’t helping.

 

 

* * *

 

How did Lance end up here? His heart raced as he opened his eyes, and he froze as he realized—Keith tilted his head just a bit as he looked down at Lance. Lance had been expecting starlit hair and dark almond eyes so the adjustment took a few seconds to process.   
  
They were in Shiro’s room. Though Lance couldn’t remember ending up there. He was snuggled close to Shiro. Up on his side, Shiro had Lance gathered in the tangle of blankets. Lance had stirred awake as he’d turned away from Shiro’s chest.   
  
Keith gave an obligatory hello nod to Lance.   
  
Lance—he wasn’t sure what to do in return.   
  
"He’s asleep?" Keith's tone was hushed.   
  
Lance could feel Shiro’s steady heart beat against his back.   
  
"Yeah." Lance replied in his own hushed tone.   
  
He couldn’t move, Shiro we partially collapsed over him, his weight leaning into him over the blankets, Lance was snuggled in, and his arm wound around Lance’s middle. From behind, Shiro’s nose and cheek were pressed to the back of Lance’s neck. Lance could feel his breath at the hem of his shirt collar.   
  
"Thanks," Keith cleared his voice, fist over his mouth for a second.   
  
Lance shifted just a bit to better look up at him. "For what?" He asked.   
  
"He uh—" Keith glanced over Shiro. "He cant sleep a lot." There was a frown. "I know cause he—for a while he came and found me to talk to instead, but I think he started to feel bad cause I checked the training logs and I think he’s spending his nights there."   
  
Lance nodded. He had no idea. His hand peaked out from the blanket as he grasped at Shiro’s hand over his abdomen.   
  
"Make sure he goes to bed?" Keith spoke then.   
  
Lance looked from Shiro back over to Keith, still standing in the room. Lance gave a nod. He could do that. He hoped—this was the first time he’d ever woken up with Shiro. He hoped Shiro liked it.   
  
Keith gave a half smile. "Thanks,"   
  
Lance smiled. "Not a problem."   
  
Keith's chuckle was even hushed. "I’m glad he finally found his balls and talked to you."   
  
Lance gave a snort.   
  
"You have no idea how much he used to look at you."   
  
Lance tipped his head at that. "What?"   
  
"Oh come on," Keith made an expression. "He wasn’t a hard ass on you just cause you were fucking off—we all do that. He just noticed you more, cause he seemed impossible to stop noticing you." Keith pocketed his hands. "I told him to lay off at one point, ya know."   
  
New information just seemed to streamline itself to Lance anymore, and it was kind of terrifying he no longer knew how to react to it all.   
  
"I did lay off," his voice was rumbly again, rough from sleep and it vibrated through Lance.   
  
Keith snorted with an eye roll. "Yeah, when you died."   
  
Lance actually snickered at that. Oh if only he knew!   
  
Shiro gave a huff and his eyes sleepily blinked as he raised his head, resting his chin on Lance’s shoulder so he could watch Keith across the room.   
  
"Keith,"   
  
Lance peered up to see a lazy smile on Shiro’s face.   
  
"You need something?" Shiro asked.

  
Keith nearly snickered and a sly smile crept on as he uncrossed his arms. "Nah, just came to check up on you."   
  
"Well," Shiro was still smiling as he nosed over Lance’s shoulder. “I’m busy.”   


It was a ticklish sensation and Lance broke into his own smile.   
  
"You seem to be doing fine." Keith rolled his eyes as he walked back past the bed to the door.   
  
Shiro gave a deep hum as he pushed up to meet Lance eye to eye.   
  
"I’m great," he said just loud enough his voice would carry before he pressed in a kiss back to Lance’s lips.   
  
"I’m leaving," Keith said as the door opened.   
  
Lance was pretty sure he didn’t even look back at them.   
  
"How are you?" Shiro asked.   
  
That was a good question. Lance’s gaze ran over Shiro’s face for a moment. "I’m—I think I’m better."   
  
"You’re okay with this?" Shiro kept pressing.   
  
Lance nodded. "Yeah."   
  
There was a quiet moment, as Shiro leaned into press another kiss to Lance’s lips, followed by another. It was soft and Lance’s hands wiggled up to cup Shiro’s face. It was one long kiss stringing together and Lance relaxed more into it the longer it lingered.   
  
Finally, Shio leaned back away though his hands were pulling the blankets away from Lance.   
  
He knew what was happening, and with a glance up to make sure the door was closed and Keith was for sure gone, Lance pushed up on his elbows and helped Shiro peel away the blankets.   
  
Once he had the access, Shiro was pushing up at Lance’s shirt.   
  
With a snicker, Lance just watched Shiro push the shirt away from Lance’s ribs then up over to his shoulders.   
  
"You’re not being very helpful," Shiro teased. He kissed Lance’s bare shoulder though, once and then twice, and then a wet, sloppier kiss up his neck.   
  
Lance blushed though as he looked down. Before—the man he’d thought was Shiro had never wanted Lance’s help.   
  
"I want an active participant," Shiro spoke soft. "I’m not interested in a doll, Lance. I’m interested in you."   
  
Right. Lance breathed out slow before he pushed up to grab at his shirt collar and yank the fabric over his head. On his knees on the bed, the shirt was barely over his head before Shiro behind him was pressing up against him. His hand worked up over Lance’s hip and around to his front as Shiro leaned in over his shoulder again.   
  
"I like that," Lance admitted.   
  
It sparked Shiro’s attention and he tipped his head. "What?"   
  
Lance blushed. "When you kiss my shoulders."   
  
Shiro was already grinning as he kissed again to the smooth bronze shoulders.   
  
"I like your shoulders." Shiro whispered into Lance’s neck. His hand raised to caress over the bony peak and down Lance’s arm. "Especially the cute freckles speckled over them."   
  
Lance felt like nearly melting back into Shiro. He was warm as he encircled him. He reached up and tugged his own grey henley up and off. As skin met skin, Lance nearly swooned back. One hand went up to tangle in that starlit hair and his other smoothed back to Shiro’s abdomen and pressed down. He still had his pants on, but Lance’s fingers could slip past the waist line—   
  
"I don’t wanna do it like this," Shiro’s stern voice was suddenly in Lance’s ear, and he was straightening,   
  
Lance blinked out of his revelry as he straightened as well.   
  
"I’m sorry," he stammered and pushed away. "I didn’t mean to, I just thought— whoah!"   
  
Shiro had grabbed Lance’s foot and pulled it out from under him, before with a hand on his thigh he flipped Lance over.   
  
The delighted smile on Shiro’s face as he crawled over Lance, before crashing onto the bed next to him, had Lance’s head reeling.   
  
“Do you like it around your neck?” Shiro’s voice was soft as he leaned in and pressed kiss after kiss up Lance’s neck, and tipping his head, he let a long breath dance over Lance’s skin before he licked the lobe of Lance ear into his mouth.

  
Lance nearly melted to a puddle that could dribble off the bed. His eyes rolled up, and his head lost all ability to hold muscle riggity and flopped back into the pillow.   
  
“Lance,” a small kiss was pressed to his ear.   
  
Lance let out a whine.   
  
“Did I find it?”   
  
Lance nearly vibrated with his voice so close to his ear.   
  
“I need you to tell me.”   
  
Lance’s eyes cracked open and it felt like he was fighting his own body but very slowly he turned his head.   
  
So close as Shiro blinked, Lance could see the way his eyes creased and his lashes brushed his bottom lid. It was so beautiful. His eyes were such a pretty umber grey. It was like looking at the horizon line of a black hole, like seeing the light and spark even at the last moment of being pulled in.   
  
“You like it?” Shiro pushed.   
  
It was Lance’s turn to give a long blink. He gave a nod, “yeah.” And hereached forward.   
  
When his hands tugged at Shiro’s shirt. There was a soft sound as it slipped up and off, before Shiro was crashing down into a kiss to Lance’s lips again and again.   
  
The tug at his own cloths were at least familiar. Shiro’s single hand though— Lance pushed up to slip his over Shiro’s before he plucked at his own jeans.   
  
“Thanks,” Shiro chuckled as he leaned in for a kiss to Lance’s hair.   
  
It was so soft, Lance blinked up and gave a nod. “...yeah.” His voice sounded rough. He swallowed. He finished, before pushing the denim down over his slender hips and pulling them off his legs.   
  
"I love your pretty skin," Shiro smiled as he leaned down to kiss at Lance’s shoulder.   
  
Blushing, Lance pushed up onto his elbows.   
  
Shiro escaped him though as he lay back on the bed. But he beckoned Lance to him. "Come on, let's try it like this."   
  
Lance slid closer, unsure what direction Shiro was leading him in.   
  
"Gimme one of those slender legs," Shiro kissed at Lance's face again.   
  
When Lance complied, he found himself very quickly pulled up over Shiro.   
  
"There we go," he hummed against Lance’s lips. "I can get a full view this way."   
  
Lance nearly sputtered, "wha—what?"   
  
"There’s a tube of lube in the drawer, let me just get it." Shiro rolled just enough to reach over for the drawer.   
  
Lance shot red again. He’d done this by now so many times with Shiro. Shiro had basically known too!  And yet Lance—he just—his face felt hot as he tried to glance away. His legs fell to frame either side of Shiro’s hips. His hands smoothed over Shiro’s abdomen. He could feel every time Shiro inhaled, and his exhale. His abdomen tensed as he reached to the bedside and relaxed as Shiro lay back.   
  
"Okay, darlin’" He popped the cap with his thumb as he leaned up to Lance.   
  
With his only hand occupied, Lance noticed the way he looked at Lance and leaned in, kissing very soft to Shiro’s waiting lips.   
  
"I can do that," Lance said with what he hoped was a sultry look. His slender fingers reached forward to slip the bottle from Shiro’s grasp. "You wanted to watch right?"   
  
The deep rumbling hum sounded more than satisfied as Lance pushed up against the bed, balancing upright over Shiro.   
  
In turn, Shiro rest back, head on a bunched pillow as his hand reached out to smooth over one of Lance’s long thighs.   
  
Those dark eyes on him were nearly terrifying, but Lance still managed to hold his gaze as he carefully dispensed lube into his hand. The last thing he needed to do was look ridiculous and fumble the bottle.   
  
He shook just a bit, he felt a little chilly, but seated over Shiro, his hard groin still clothed under Lance’s very not clothed body was enticing,   
  
Lance pushed up on his knees, enough to reach between his legs.   
  
His breath caught as he slipped the first finger in.   
  
"I wanna hear it," Shiro’s voice was so low it nearly sounded like a threat. "Don’t hold it back,"   
  
Swallowing again, Lance did his best to comply.   
  
He was eager and his hips started to rock even as he slipped two more fingers in.   
  
"Come on, Come on," he murmured to himself.   
  
"Don’t rush," Shiro’s hand chaffed up and back down Lance’s thigh again. "I’m enjoying this."   
  
Lance tipped his head, lifting it to look up at his partner. There was a smile, but also—the way he watched Lance was striking. His full attention was consumed on him. Lance gave his own smile.   
  
"You like to watch me in distress?"   
  
"Oh, I don’t think you’re in distress right now." Shiro’s eyes lidded in that confident way.   
  
Lance thrust his fingers back into himself before pulling out and repeating. His breath was timed with the movement, his eyes shutting as he pushed back in. It was a lovely feeling. It made his legs trembling and his mouth drop opens. The slick sound of his fingers could be heard in the room.   
  
Lance’s free hand splayed over Shiro’s bare abdomen before he moved it lower.   
  
"I am," he breathed out as he said it. "It’s been a while after all." Lance’s long fingers pried at Shiro’s waistband.   
  
He earned a flick of Shiro’s gaze lower but no other reaction.   
  
"He didn’t pay a lot of attention to me at the end," Lance murmured.   
  
That seemed to still Shiro, his mouth pressing into a tight line.   
  
Lance stopped what he was doing, his fingers stilling. He meant it as banter, to surge Shiro into some sort of action, but the look on his face...   
  
"It wasn’t-" Lance shook his head.   
  
"He was an idiot." Shiro blurted. "And consumed over the wrong things."   
  
His arm wound back around Lance then, and faster than Lance anticipated, he was pushing Lance’s fingers back in.   
  
"Uhhh," Lance let out, his hips squirming.   
  
"Uh huh," Shiro gave in answer.   
  
He pushed his own fingers in then, slotting with Lance’s, filling him completely at that point.   
  
Lance clamped a hand over his mouth as he was suddenly very full. He felt stretched and his legs shook. Below him, Lance glanced, his own erection, curved up towards him, cherry red top and all was dribbling white precum over Shiro’s stomach. Lance fisted his hand in the hem of Shiro’s pants.   
  
"Do you think that’s enough?"   
  
Shiro’s fingers wiggled inside of him, it sent shock waves through Lance. His shoulders trembled and his thighs gripped Shiro’s waist.   
  
"I think you’ll be fine," Shiro’s said as he pulled out, his fingers intertwining with Lance’s to pull him as well.   
  
"Naahhh,"Lance moaned as he was left empty.   
  
"You’re doing so good for me baby," Shiro’s voice was soft.   
  
Still fisted in Shiro’s pants, Lance was startled when Shiro laid his hand over Lance’s.   
  
"Come on," Shiro urged. "Keep going."   
  
Lance blinked, long and drawn before he looked down and did as he was ordered. Shiro’s hips lifted to accommodate and Lance huffed as the long thick member was revealed.   
  
Shiro reached between them and back to Lance, his fingers more teasing as he slipped one finger in.   
  
Once Lance managed the pants down, he leaned back over to pull them off Shiro’s feet and discard them to the side of the bed.   
  
"The lube, baby," Shiro reminded.   
  
"Oh, right," Lance looked around before he snatched it up from the bed covers. He popped the cap again, pouring more into his hands.   
  
As Lance leaned down, Shiro leaned up to steal a kiss. And then another one, and Lance smeared his hand down over Shiro’s erection. The mess of a kiss was sloppy and Shiro smiled into every press and his own fingers started to push harder into Lance.   
  
It left Lance trembling, the onslaught from above and below enough to send him hunched over Shiro, doing his best to stroke and smear lube over his member.   
  
"I’m gonna let you lead," Shiro spoke soft to him. "It’s alright to take it slow, it’s a bit different like this."   
  
"Yeah," Lance was still so close to those lips. "I got it," he murmured probably more to himself.   
  
Shiro pulled his fingers, the wet sound luridly attractive as Lance shifted and lined his hips. Shiro grasped over Lance’s hip bones and his eyes trained on Lance’s movements. Long fingers grasped the long erection. Lance tested his grip around the ample girth, lining himself over it. His eyes flicked up just as he felt the tip at his entrance.   
  
Lance bit his lips as he eased his hips down.   
  
His breath caught, his chest puffing as he felt the first stretch.   
  
"Good," It was Shiro’s turn to swallow. His hand at Lance’s hips squeezed.   
  
Lance cracked his own smile this time. "I’m good at this." He raised a brow. "How could you ever doubt me?"   
  
Shiro’s breathy laughter was a welcome sound. "Oh, I know you’re good."   
  
Leaning forward, Lance felt the slick slide on Shiro as he crawled on his hands up to Shiro.   
  
With a sling around his neck, Shiro looped his arm around Lance’s shoulders.   
  
"Ready?" Shiro asked.   
  
Lance hummed, before leaning in. Shiro caught on and offered up the kiss. It was a fierce press of lips, fast and sloppy.   
  
Lance cracked another smile before he planted his hands, and pressed back.   
  
It took the breath from them both and Lance’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head as he seated himself flush in Shiro’s lap.   
  
Shiro’s back arched off the bed and his hand clamped around the cap of Lance’s shoulders. It was a sight Lance had never seen as Shiro’s eyes flicked closed and his chin lifted. Lance snaked his hand into Shiro’s brilliant white hair, filing his fingers through the soft strands.   
  
This time felt—so close. Lance felt like he was actually a part of Shiro for once, like he wanted him that way. It was a blissful feeling. Every kiss pressed to Lance’s skin from Shiro only made it more brilliant.   
  
And he wanted to give something back.   
  
"You watching, old man?" Lance quibbed.   
  
Pulling back, Lance lay each palm back at Shiro’s chest, spreading his fingers wide. At the crack of Shiro’s eyes open, Lance gave a devious smile before he started to slowly walk his hands back, slipping under Shiro’s arm, Lance pushed all the way up-right.   
  
And then making sure Shiro was watching, Lance let out a grasping cry as he sat back on his cock, impaling himself balls deep.   
  
And Shiro looked like he was about have a conniption. His mouth dropped open and his hand fiercely grabbed as Lance’s waist.   
  
Throwing his head back, Lance rolled his hips on Shiro, biting his lip and his his hand grasped at Shiro’s.   
  
When Lance looked back, he giggled. His eyes settled back on Shiro and he gave another devious smile.   
  
"There he is," Shiro whispered. "My confident boy finally made an appearance." His hand rubbed up Lance’s side before going back down.   
  
Lance just laughed again before he settled himself into a rolling, steady rhythms of his hips, sliding Shiro in and out of him smoothly. It felt amazing. Lance felt drowsy on it. It was such a perfect fit inside him.   
  
"Fuck," Shiro gasped.   
  
Lance placed his hands forward on the bed to balance as he fucked himself with a bit more leverage. He’d never done it like this, he had no idea what to expect.   
  
Shiro’s hand found Lance’s cock between them, and with each thrust gave a squeezing stroke after stroke.   
  
The added sense nearly brought Lance to a drooling crumpled mess, and he dropped a bit lower again as his hand clasped over his mouth to keep from yelling.   
  
"Yes," It was impossible to hold it all back. "Yes please," he pleaded.   
  
Lance was nearly bowed over Shiro again. He didn’t have the stamina to keep himself  upright for very long and Shiro leaned forward to his ear, kissing at the lobe before he spoke in a gravelly deep voice.   
  
"Let me fuck you,"   
  
Shiro’s harsh whisper to Lance’s ear sent shock wave after wave through him. Lance felt like a bundle of raw nerves, he felt constrained over Shiro and loved it.   
  
"Please," he hissed as he turned his face into Shiro’s neck.   
  
"Of course," the polite reply was accompanied with a soft hand at Lance’s jutting hip bone before it wound back around Lance, at his middle this time. "Hold on," Shiro kissed his ear again.   
  
His hips slammed up.   
  
And Lance crumbled, gasping for air. The powerful thrust into him was followed by another and Lance’s legs shook as he murmured for it to happen again into Shiro’s neck. He gasped and squeaked in a jumble of words that  he wanted it, he wanted Shiro more.   
  
It wasn’t till he looked up, Lance realized, he hadn’t said it in English. Lance dribbled out more Spanish nonsense that he tried to course correct but it was—Shiro slammed into him again. Lance managed Shiro's name correctly—and he was thrust into harder—Lance wasn’t sure if he could manage his own name at that point and a whining tumble of Spanish was all that made it out again   
  
Shiro looked nearly gleeful as he pound up, fast and hard and to stop Lance’s incoherent gasping and pouring he slammed his lips over Lance.   
  
It caught them both by surprises as Shiro jut his hips up then—and groaned as his head fell back and his hold on Lance slammed him down to completely bottom out as he came.   
  
Lance gasped for breath after breath as he watched every muscle in Shiro strain, and every emotion of revelry and bliss strike across his face.   
  
He didn’t move from where he was seated, but with a shaky hand, Lance started to stroke himself.   
  
The wet sound seemed to bring Shiro out of it a little and lazily he blinked a few times. "No, ya don’t," he mumbled.   
  
Lance looked up—just in time for Shiro to yank him down and they crashed down to the bed covers.   
  
"Uufff, " Lance let out as he landed.   
  
Shiro just chuckled. "Wanna come with me in you still?" He asked.   
  
Lance felt like he could barely lift his head but he still gave a nod.   
  
Shiro thrust back into him hard then, and though his own release had already happened it still had Lance reeling.   
  
"Come closer," Shiro beckoned.   
  
Lance obeyed and nearly fell into the kiss Shiro pressed to his lips. It was a hot, open mouthed kiss that made Lance’s head spin with every movement into the kiss Shiro made farther, consuming Lance, drinking him up tongue to tongue.   
  
The Shiro’s hand palmed over Lance’s tightly corded erection.   
  
The whine Lance gave into the kiss was swallowed as Shiro’s big hand engulfed his cock. The strokes were slow, but squeezing, and his thumb pressed in at Lance’s slit, rubbing circles over the head each time he reached it.   
  
Lance was nearly crying.   
  
He tried to mumble something but Shiro just kissed him fiercer, pushing him father with each stroke.   
  
_Ya gonna come?_   
  
It hung in the air without a word uttered and Lance whined.   
  
The kiss broke just long enough for Shiro to watch. The moment his thumb pressed over Lance’s tip again and Lance sucked in, his mouth dropping open in a silent cry.   
  
By the time he was coming, Shiro had him engulfed into another devouring kiss and Lance was completely lost to it. His hips bucked only to add the sensation of Shiro still inside him as a impaling reminder and Shiro never stopped stroking him—or kissing him—   
  
And—   
  
He was trapped in the bliss, no escape, no hope of escape as his vision blurred and the tight coil in Lance released and his body was sent though one of the hardest orgasms he’d ever felt. He saw white and ice seemed to bloom through his veins and by the end—   
  
Lance’s head dropped to the pillow, not able to even kiss anymore as he finally fell from grace.   
  
Shiro next to him seemed sickeningly satisfied as he kissed Lance’s shoulder and then his neck and his cum streaked hand rubbed soothingly at Lance’s side.   
  
"Nuhhn," Lance let out as Shiro finally pulled from him.   
  
There was a stringing white mess between Lance’s legs, and as he lifted his head just a bit to look down. He blinked at the mess of cum and sweat his body was covered in.   
  
With a hopeless moan though, Lance’s head fell back to Shiro’s neck.   
  
"That’s my baby," Shiro hummed.   
  
Lance didn’t answer as he drifted.   
  
Shiro was so warm against his skin and each kiss pressed to him just warmed him further.   
  
No drawback to convince himself of this time, Lance knew he’d helped.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry guys, the very last scene was a treat for my very beloved patrons. Thank you for the read and I hope ya liked it! 
> 
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> 
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